


Tumblr Prompts

by Harpokrates



Category: Metal Gear, Team Fortress 2, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Dinosaurs, F/F, Gen, M/M, Melodrama, Zombies, heroic rescue!, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpokrates/pseuds/Harpokrates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crosspost of prompt fills from The Tumble. Quality not guaranteed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liquid/Otacon, Coffee, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liquid/Otacon, Coffee. The first, and far less indulgent of the two.

“Come to watch me die, Doctor?” Liquid Snake said, through bloody and cracked lips. He was sprawled out in the snow, although Hal wasn’t sure if it could still be called snow when it was stained black with ash and pink with blood.

Hal stood over him, snow piling on his shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, pressing his teeth together so hard they creaked.

“Why did you do it?” he said finally, pulling off his glasses and rubbing them clean on the hem of his jacket. It was mostly ineffectual, and when he put them back on, his vision was blurred with greasy fingerprints.

Why’d I do what?” Liquid coughed and spat up bloody phlegm.

Hal squeezed his hands into fists.

“Why this? Why REX?” His arms shook. “You people are monsters!”

“Spoken like a true hypocrite, Doctor,” Liquid’s eyes swiveled in their blackened sockets, like the reflection of stars on chemical blackened water, “you sit down in your labs with your coffee and design weapons because you think it’s fun. I know what I am, do you?”

“You’re wrong! I’m not like you; I’m not like you at all!”

He turned around, trying to keep tears of frustration from leaking down his cheeks.

“You’re lying to yourself! You can’t even admit that, can you, Doctor?”

He started the long, cold walk back to the base, and Liquid Snake’s laugh followed him all the way down.


	2. Liquid/Otacon, Coffee part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liquid/Otacon, Coffee. I wrote two because I don't like writing sad things

“Coffee, Hal?”

The soft bubbling of the percolator filled the kitchen. Warm, golden sunlight formed neat lines across the linoleum countertop. Liquid was paid well enough to live in a much better apartment -he probably could have financed a house with what was in his bank account-, but his townhouse practically home by now. He was even coming to appreciate the leaky taps and their annoying neighbor with the three children who had chased Hal down the street with Nerf guns once.

Not enough to stop mowing his tiny patch of lawn at five in the morning on Saturday, but at least he was trying.

“What?” Hal stumbled into the kitchen, his hair still damp from his shower, “No! Step away from the coffee maker!”

Liquid stepped away from the coffee maker.

“What?”

“I remember the last time you tried to fix my coffee, Liquid,” he leaned over and switched off the power, then poured out the pitch black sludge that had dribbled into the bottom of the pot, “I couldn’t taste anything for a week.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“How would you like it if I tried to make your tea?”

Not his Earl Grey. Liquid shuddered.

“Point taken.” He stepped up behind Hal and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, resting his chin on those thin shoulders. Hal had small hands, meant for delicate things. Liquid watched as he measured out a tablespoon or so of ground coffee and put it in a new filter.

“You could teach me how to make it for you?”

Hal snorted through his nose. “Oh, you know you wouldn’t listen.”

“Right,” he stepped back, tugging Hal with him, “I’d be too distracted by you to pay attention.”

Liquid spun him through the sunlight in a clumsy attempt at a waltz. Hal laughed and clung to his chest, trying to keep from stepping on his boots.

Yes, he could definitely come to appreciate this.


	3. Sniper/Spy, Zombies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper/Spy, Zombies. Bonus points for whoever can name all of the movie references.

“You know, mate,” Sniper grunted, pulling back the bolt on his rifle, “when I said ‘vacation’, this wasn’t what I bloody had in mind.”

“‘Wasn’t what I bloody had in mind’ he says,” Spy muttered in an abysmal imitation of his accent. He lined up a shot and fired twice in succession. A pair of scraggly dead men walking crumpled to the pavement. “Next time we take a trip together, you can choose our destination.”

“I ain’t picking bloody America, that’s for sure. Last week it was aliens, this week it’s zombies, what’s next?”

“Sharks, perhaps?”

“Naw, sharks are sea beasties; I’m hedging on ants.” He took out a zombie’s kneecap and sent it tumbling down into a horde of walkers. “Oh, that was a beaut -just like dominos.”

Spy applauded politely and flicked his balisong into the forehead of a rotting woman who managed to shamble up the stairs to their little alcove. Sniper clapped his calloused hand against his knee.

“Where were we?” Spy pulled a clip out of his waistcoat pocket. “Ah, yes, ants. America is full of ants; the world is full of ants; what’s a few more ants going to do?”

“Giant ants, maybe?”

“Why are they giant?”

“Eh,” Sniper scratched his head, “radiation, maybe?”

“Well, with radiation, you’re going to want Godzilla.” Spy looked remarkably put together for a man with at least five brains splattered across his suit pants.

“Yeah, that’s good one. Not sure I could pull a headshot on him, though.”He shot four zombies in rapid succession. “That’s beautiful, look at how nice they go down!”

Spy snorted. “And you said this was a bad vacation.”

“Ah, piss off.”

“ _Je t’aime, mon amour_.”

“I love you, too, you great wanker.”


	4. Otacon/Akiba, Dinosaurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otacon/Akiba (Johnny Sasaki), Dinosaurs. This is actually the second time I've been the first to post in the tag for an obscure pairing.

“So all I’m saying is,” Johnny paused to sneeze violently, then accepted the tissue the engineer begrudgingly batted at him, “thanks. Uh, I’m saying that you should make it roar.”

“I should make it… roar?” the engineer adjusted his glasses and Johnny took the opportunity to steal a glance at his name badge. So this was the illustrious Dr. Emmerich.

“Yeah, like a dinosaur,” Johnny put his FAMAS down on the linoleum and sat on the desk, “you ever seen Jurassic Park?”

Dr. Emmerich rolled his eyes, “yes, I’ve seen Jurassic Park.”

“Okay, so, picture this,” Johnny waved his hands, “a giant robot comes out, it’s gonna shoot down a nuke. Right, so everyone is expecting a laser, or a gun, but then, bam!” he clapped his hands and Emmerich flinched, “it jumps, straight up, and bites the nuke straight out of the air. While roaring.”

“I can’t even begin to think about everything wrong with that sentence.”

“Ah, but can you think to imagine?”

“Look, it isn’t like I can add a pair of rockets to REX’s legs at this point in the design. I mean, he’s basically finished already. Not to mention the amount of scientific wrong that must have given you the idea that a rocket propelled TMD wouldn’t just tip over and blast along the ground for a few meters. Next you’re going to be saying that, oh,” he sucked air through his teeth,” I don’t know, a pair of genetically engineered identical twins can somehow have a different genome.”

“Yeah,” Johnny whined, “but it’d be great. How about a pair of speakers, then? I mean, the thing is already named REX, why not just go with the theme? Trust me, a roar will give you like, so much intimidation.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, man,” he shook Dr. Emmerich’s hand sharply. It felt like holding a dead fish, but whatever. REX was totally getting a T. rex roar!


	5. Firewalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based on a prompt from the TF Plot Bunny Farm (I had no idea this was still active...)
> 
> "G1: Inferno firewalker. Inferno is famous because he is fire resistant. He can walk through fire without melting anything on his frame." Link here: http://tf-bunny-farm.livejournal.com/462387.html 
> 
> Written in about half an hour and barely edited

Ellie coughed, and immediately regretted it. Hot, black air burned her throat, scorched its way down her lungs. What she wouldn't do for a glass of water. She glanced back, and tugged her leg towards her. No good—it was still pinned. It wouldn't even do her the damned courtesy of falling off.

She laughed into the carpet, and it sounded a little unhinged for the few seconds of noise she got out before dissolving into a violent, hacking cough. Ellie pressed her face into the blue high-pile. She was being hysterical. Breathe. Breatheeee. In, out, slow and steady. She was below the smoke layer, and the blazing inferno hadn't blazed through the walls quite yet. The phone was across the room—useless, and even if she could use it, the landline had been cut before the bombs started falling. Bombs, or whatever it was the Decepticons used. Photon torpedoes? Or maybe they just glued a bunch of lightsabers together and chucked the mess out of the back of a plane?

Hysteria again. 

Ellie twisted around. Her left leg was crushed under a filing cabinet, which, in turn, was crushed under a piece of drywall and a few two-by-fours. There might've even been something crushing the drywall, but she couldn't see it and didn't really care regardless. Whatever it was, she was still stuck.

There was a crash, loud enough that she could hear it even over the roar of the flames. More bombs? Or had the building simply burned through what little remained of its rebar? She glanced up, squinting through the smoke, and then the entire left wall fell away.

"Hello?" a deep, grating, synthesized voice rang out, "any survivors?"

Ellie wheezed.

A hand, a giant one, made of metal and wire, reached through the room, gently brushing aside charred wood and melting plastic.

"Don't worry," the voice reverberated through the floor, and strummed through Ellie's chest, like Judi's shitty Ford when she turned the bass as high as it would go, "I've got you."

The hand pushed aside the debris covering her leg, and continued pushing until the cabinet formed its own exit, out the back wall of the office. Ellie had the feeling she wasn't going to be going back to work anytime soon.

"Stay still," and the hand plucked her off the ground. Ellie slid to the center of the robot's (Autobot, it had to be) palm, and he curled his fingers protectively around her. The hand pulled her out, through the smoke, and flame so bright—so intense—she had to squint.

The daylight was worse. Ellie shielded her eyes and took a breath of fresh air. It felt cold, like breathing ice, but it was clear, and her eyes didn't water. Her leg, on the other hand, wasn't doing as swell as her lungs. It made her a little nauseous to look at, but her blood must have been mostly adrenaline, because she could hardly feel any pain.

"Are you alright?" The Autobot raised her to eye level, which was about twenty feet higher than she ever wanted to be. She clambered around his thumb for support.

"Uh, yeah," she rasped around the smoke, "thank you. Ah, I'm Ellie."

"My name is Inferno," and he smiled politely, before depositing her back on terra firma, then retreated back to his fellow towering robots.

Huh, Ellie mused as she sat on the stretcher, impassively watching as the EMTs cut away her acid-wash jeans. The Autobots had left hours ago, after fishing the last of the survivors out of the rubble, and retrieving the satellite from the Decepticons. Now she was here, sitting alongside the other yellow triage injured. It left her a lot of time to think.

Inferno, the Autobot had said his name was. She would have called him Firewalker.


	6. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short drabbleish thing about Pisha and names, banged out in like 10 minutes. Not edited and very melodramatic.

"The woman you loved, her name was Pisha, right?"

Pisha fought down the minute threads of irritation that coiled in her stomach. No, it would be unwise to snap at the Fledgling. Power— _ that _ kind of power—at such a young age, well… an ally was better than an enemy.

"Yes," Pisha answered, "it was."

The Fledgling shifted awkwardly. It was a sign of humanness, the constant need to move, to expend energy, to look alive. It was an old habit—one from birth—that would surely fade.

"Why didn't you turn her? Like, make her into a vampire—a Kindred?"

Pisha looked at the Fledgling, slowly, snake-like. Honest curiosity colored that nearly-human face. What a foolish thing to ask. Pisha considered her long history, her acquaintances. None had ever been so bold, so stupid. It was a vulnerable thing to take an interest in another's life, and if this was not  _ interest _ , if this was fishing for blackmail, then it was clumsy, to put it lightly.

It had to be interest. The Fledgling was too stupid, too naive, too willing to throw in with the first charismatic Kindred to show an ounce of appreciation, to plot against her. Truthfully, she stood to gain from this exchange. The Fledgling seemed to value vulnerability—not physical, but emotional. Another human habit, wanting trust from those not inclined to give it.

Pisha considered. Yes, perhaps this was wise.

"She did not want it, so I did not offer."

The Fledgling's brow crinkled. "She didn't want it? She didn't want to be one of us? I mean," the Fledgling gestured to her, "it's a little nasty to eat bodies, but we're powerful. We'll live forever."

Pisha didn't bother to correct. "You were turned against your will, yes?"

"Well, yeah, and I hated it for a little, but look at me now. I'm happy like this."

It sounded a bit desperate, like the Fledgling was trying to push a partial truth. Coming to terms with the monster was no easy task. Sometimes it was easier to lie until you forgot it bothered you.

"You didn't leave someone behind? Someone you miss?"

"Nah," the Fledgling shrugged, "my parents are dead and all my friends were assholes or druggies. Hell,  _ I _ was both."

"She was the same. She was alone."

"Until you?"

"You make it sound special."

The Fledgling frowned. "Wasn't it? She had to have been special, right?"

Pisha closed her eyes, tried to ignore the memory of moonlight over black hair. "Humans are not special. They are the same; a series of patterns in tandem. When you have lived long enough, you'll learn to see them, learn to become bored. No human is unique."

"But you loved her."

"I did."

"And you let her die?"

Pisha refocused her stare at the Fledgling. "I did. I would have been cruel to deny her eternity."

"Like the afterlife? Heaven or whatever?"

"That is a word for it, yes. She told me often about her paradise."

"She loved the idea of dying more than she loved you?"

" _ I _ loved her enough to let her choose."

The Fledgling snorted. "That's so cliche. 'If you love someone, let them go'? That's terrible advice. What happens if they can't come back? What happens if they don't want to?"

"What happens if they do? Have you ever considered how terrifying it is to love someone, and to love them more than they love you? Or worse, the thought that they might love you, more than you love them?"

The Fledgling shifted uncomfortably. "I guess, yeah, but isn't loving someone better than not having them at all? Of only having memories?"

"Pisha left no children," she started in a seeming non sequitur, "no siblings. History never knew her. She lived simply, and died simply. The only thing that remains of her are memories."

"And a name."

"Yes," Pisha smiled, finally, "and a name."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at harpowrites.tumblr.com and give a prompt for a dumb story of your very own.


End file.
